A Takahashi Never Quits
by MadridistaGoBlue
Summary: Driving had not always come easily for Takahashi Ryosuke.


The car jolted to a stop as Takahashi Ryosuke stamped on the brake. Inertia pushed his body forward, into the tight grip of his seatbelt, before he was jerked against the firm back of his seat. His pale fingers twisted over the worn polyurethane of the steering wheel, gripping it until the color drained further from his knuckles. His palms - perfectly positioned along the circle, where the hours 10:00 and 2:00 would appear on the clock face – were coated in sweat.

Holding his foot down firmly on the break, Ryosuke uncurled his left hand and wrapped it around the gear shift, looking down to find where to shift it into "park." Feeling the car stagnate - but continuing to hold his foot down - he grabbed the ignition key with his other hand and hurriedly twisted it, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as the hum of the engine faded into a comforting silence.

His leg felt heavy as he finally pulled his foot off of the break and relaxed his right leg out in front of him. His arms were slightly shaking, and he could feel his pulse pound heavily through the veins on the side of his neck.

"Well, that's all for today," a woman to Ryosuke's left spoke calmly. With a sharp click, she undid the passenger's side seatbelt, and turned to face Ryosuke more directly.

Ryosuke said nothing. His hands were balled tightly into fists on his lap, while his eyes stared at them vacantly. His throat felt heavy and dry.

"It takes practice, you know," she continued. There was reassurance in her voice, but Ryosuke couldn't help but to interpret a cutting a meaning from her words - as though he were too proud and arrogant to know that obtaining a new skill, particularly one as complex and demanding of one's concentration and coordination as driving, would require practice to master. Yet, perhaps his interpretation of her words stung more because he sensed some truth in them. He hadn't expected it to be this difficult, and certainly not this frightening.

Ryosuke had avoided the classic beginner's mistakes. He hadn't slammed his foot on the accelerator when he first began to drive, nor had he done so with the brake. He knew that sharper turns required him to turn the steering wheel hand-over-hand, while wider-angled turns did not. His first few drives around the parking lot had been relatively smooth, allowing him to graduate with ease to a small residential street. After all, he had not only read, but studied, his driver's manual from cover-to-cover. Yet, he had failed to predict the way that his every subtle error would be magnified on the road.

He hit the gas and the brake with inconsistent pressure, making it difficult to maintain his speed, or to brake without feeling the car jerk underneath him. He struggled to find the balance between making his car a target for oncoming traffic in the middle of the road and hugging the left side so tightly that his tires would slide into the narrow ditches at the edge of the sidewalk. And he had failed to judge how much to steer as he approached the first turn, sending the wheels of the car straight over the curb. He could still hear the sound of concrete scraping against plastic and feel the sudden, unexpected drop as his front wheel plummeted over the edge. The moment was still too vivid in his mind, and recalling it was causing his pulse to rise further. He bit down on the inside corner of his lip.

Ryosuke prided himself on his sharp intellect and his ability to learn quickly. Yet, he was no fool, and he knew that his first time on the road would produce far from flawless driving. But, even so, he hadn't expected to make such an obvious mistake, which left visible damage on the left-hand bumper of the car and left him feeling rather shaken.

"Many of my students have gone over the curb on their first time driving," the woman - his instructor -spoke again. "These cars get scraped all the time and no one was hurt. That's why we start you off at low speeds. You don't need to worry."

"I understand," Ryosuke replied. Theoretically, he did. Emotionally, however, he found it difficult to accept.

He knew he hadn't been in any danger, and, furthermore, he recognized that the slight scrape he had caused was typical of a driver of his experience level. He could simply brush it off as disappointment in himself, but typically such failures made him impatient to try again, to prove that he could learn from every mistake the key to perfect execution. Yet something about the car was different. In his mind, he wanted nothing more than to push open the door, bolt out of the driver's seat, and never enter it again. Yet, in reality, he was frozen in place, his seatbelt still crossed over his shoulder and chest. This fear was something unsettling - something unknown.

"Ryosuke-kun, do you mind if I ask a question?" the instructor asked. The gentle sound of her voice contrasted with the firmness of her tone.

"No," Ryosuke replied, forcing himself to speak loudly and clearly over the ache in his throat.

"Are you well-ranked in school?" she asked.

Ryosuke's head snapped up at the somewhat invasive question, and he turned to face her. "Yes," he replied, with a small nod. "I'm the top of my class."

"I thought so," she said, diverting her eyes with an exasperated sigh and running a hand through her long, black hair. She chuckled. "It's so easy to tell."

"What do you mean?" Ryosuke replied, a hint of annoyance edging into his voice. How dare she insinuate anything about his personality simply because he excelled in his studies?

"Well, kids like you are used to figuring things out quickly - if not on the first try, then after asking a few questions, or studying for a while." She exhaled, slowly this time, and looked Ryosuke in the eyes once more. "Driving isn't like that," she continued. "No matter how many times you get in a car, it's never something you'll perfect. It takes time. The best kids who come in here are kids whose parents have been letting them drive illegally for years. None of you by-the-book, studying-to-go-to-college kind of kids ever know what you're doing the first time. It's not a skill. It's an art. And it takes practice."

"I see," Ryosuke replied. He wasn't sure how he felt about this instructor, whose words were simultaneously comforting and chiding. To some extent he felt insulted, and, yet, her criticism was fair. It wasn't simply that he criticized himself for failure, though, certainly, that was a fault of his as well. She had caught on to something deeper, something essential about the very nature of driving versus the other activities Ryosuke pursued.

Ryosuke reached down and unclicked his seatbelt.

"Thank you," he said, opening the car, stepping out, and turning to thank his instructor with a bow. "I'll be sure to be here next week, so we can practice again."

"Sounds good," she replied, with a smile that was both teasing and comforting. It reminded Ryosuke of his little brother, Keisuke, in a way.

He forced a smile and closed the door, then walked off towards the bus stop, taking his leave.

He understood now. He did, indeed, fear the car - for not only had he failed to master it, but, if his instructor was to be believed, it was impossible to master. It was a force outside of his own control - tempered by his actions, but not powered by them. For someone such as himself, who was used to using his quick wit to ensure a favorable outcome to any given situation, this lack of control was terrifying, indeed.

Yet Ryosuke was stubborn, in a certain way. He accepted defeat with grace, but never with ease. Perhaps he could never master the car. But if he could learn to _respect_ its power, then perhaps that force could be harnessed.

He took a brief look back at the small, white sedan of the driver's school, now fading into the distance as he approached the bus stop. A sense of resolve settled over him, and, despite everything, he smiled.

 _That's right_ , he thought. _A Takahashi never quits._


End file.
